


“I just came to say goodbye.”

by courageous_boss



Series: Three Birds and a Baby (a Batfamily AU) [2]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alfred and Jason are the only ones who actually emote without having a stroke, Barbara Gordon is Batgirl, Bruce messes up, Canon-Typical Violence, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Gen, Jason is a nerd, jason was never robin, nothing too graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-09-15 06:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16928571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courageous_boss/pseuds/courageous_boss
Summary: Talon is nine years old when he’s abducted.Ten years later, he escapes. He’s still nine years old, but he’s lost nearly all his memories and he’s hurting all the time.First, he goes to Batman.Then, he goes home.





	1. Chapter 1

Cold.

Freezing cold.

Cold that pierced skin and burrowed deep into bones and _hurt_.

The blood was still on his fingers, under his nails, smattered on his cheeks. Warm, hot, _burning_. He just wanted it to _stop_. When it did – _finally_ stopped hurting, hurting, hurting – pulling him into the darkness he’d grown so accustomed to, he felt relief.

 

* * *

 

Jason wasn’t a fan of being picked up in the limo. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed; he’d grown out of that after he’d been invited over to one of his friend’s house and saw their plethora of limos and race cars. But being picked up in the limo meant that Bruce was either going to be stuck in the office for the rest of the night, or already on a plane to a meeting overseas. Either way, Jason wasn’t going to be seeing him for the rest of the day.

“Hey, Alfie,” Jason climbed into the backseat, juggling his backpack and a stack of books he’d borrowed from the school library.

“Good afternoon, Master Jason. I trust that you had a good day,” Alfred was as cordial as ever, dressed in a soft suit and wearing his fancy, leather, driving gloves.

“Yeah, the project for the Science Fair is coming along really good. I had my doubts about that McFarlan kid, you know, the one who’s mum owns the bakery on Sixth street, but he’s making good progress on the equations. And the Lit Debate went great too. With more practice, I think we’ll make regionals,” Jason’s voice was quickening as he spoke. He just couldn’t help it. A few years ago, he’d had never imagined he’d be able to receive an education at any school – never mind the best school in Gotham. If Bruce was going to foot his tuition, then he was going to take full advantage of the opportunity.

“It sounds like you had a productive day. What about that fair-haired lass you had over the other day? Suzy was it?” Alfred asked, voice more than amused. He chuckled silently at the blush blossoming on the young boy’s face.

“ _Alfie_ ,” Jason groaned. “Please, don’t torture me.”

“That was never my intention, young master,” Alfred quipped, the smirk in this voice betraying his sincerity. He didn’t tease Jason any longer, though, for fear that the boy’s face might actually catch fire if his cheeks heated any more. Instead, he pushed the conversation into another direction, “Master Bruce will be away for the next week, maybe two. There’s a meeting in Berlin that he had to attend.”

Jason’s mood damped slightly. He’d gotten much better at handling Bruce’s frequent and sudden absences over the years; the first time Bruce had disappeared for a week without notice Jason had been twelve years old with Gotham’s dirt still under his fingernails and hair that hadn’t learned how to sit neatly and an accent that screamed his status.  He’d had a meltdown and tried to run away only to be dragged back to the Manor by Commissioner Gordon who had teamed up with Alfred to lock him in his room until Bruce returned. Jason had been so angry that he’d yelled and screamed and punched. Now, the news wasn't so much surprising as it was disappointing. Bruce was sometimes even more of a geek than he was, and Jason was sure that the man would have been excited to hear the progress on his project.

“I know I’m no replacement for Master Bruce,” Alfred said, his coy tone delaying Jason’s assurance that Alfred was in a whole other league than their favorite grump. “However, I managed to attain tickets to the Hvorostovsky concert this evening. I’d be delighted if you would join me – that is, if you’re not too busy with your project.”

And, Alfred had yet to actually get the tickets, but the way Jason’s eyes lit up made any effort he’d have to make completely worth it.

 

* * *

 

“You served your punishment well, boy,” Talon said, eyes sweeping over the child.

The child didn’t react – knew better, had been _taught_ better. Just kept his tiny body huddled in a ball, shivering away.

Talon placed a hand on the boy’s head, fingers pressing against cold skin. Blue met yellow and shudders ran through the boy’s slim frame. Even with the fear of retribution, the boy was leaning into Talon’s touch like a puppy starved of its master’s affection.

“Let’s get you ready for your assignment,” Talon grinned, white teeth skinning, jagged edges reflecting the bright light, breath frosting, “it’s time to show me how well you’ve been listening. I hope you’ve been paying attention.”

The boy just leaned more into his touch, blue, little fingers brushing against Talon’s hand, holding it in place. Guarding. Protecting. Claiming the comfort. Soaking up the praise. If he pretended hard enough, squeezed his eyes closed tightly enough, wished it all away enough, he thought - 

\- maybe.

Maybe it would all stop.

 

* * *

 

With Gotham, it was all or nothing. Give or take. Welcome or banish. Gotham, for all of her flaws, wasn’t half-assing anything.

“Let me _go_!” the small, wriggling, purple-clad vigilante was screaming.

A girl. A little girl. Barely four feet tall. Hasn’t even hit puberty yet. Running around Gotham in a purple costume that Batman realized, with horror gripping his chest, that she seemed to have stitched together herself.

“I told you not to come back out here,” Batman gritted out, voice modulator off but words hard and stern.

The girl was unfazed. “You’re not the boss of me.”

Bruce tapped his fingers against her chest, black on yellow. Yellow bat, the cloth soft and giving too easily. Bruce pressed harder. Surely, she hadn’t made the costume from plain cotton, right?

“Then why is my symbol on your chest?”

“You don’t have a monopoly on bats, you know,” she was screeching, thrashing and kicking. Her face was going an amusing shade of red. Soon, Bruce mused, her cheeks would match her hair.

“You’re a child. I would never allow a child to run around the streets. And please tell me you haven’t made your suit from cotton.”

The girl stopped squirming, hung pliantly in his grip like a kitten too small for its fur, and pouted. “Well, we don’t all have money to burn. Where do you even get Kevlar anyway? I looked everywhere!”

“That’s no excuse. You have been careless. I have no choice but to put a stop to your shenanigans.”

She laughed – giggled more like, a sweet, happy thing that had her cheeks pink instead of the hot, frustrated red it had been before – before she pondered, “Wait! Where are you taking me?”

Bruce chuckled just one chuckle, that was all he would allow himself. “The Cave.”

“Oh,” she sounded much too excited and much too pleased with herself, “sounds exciting.”

When she started blabbering about secret lairs and flying cars and some stupid myth she’d heard about Superman’s Fortress of Solitude, Batman wondered if he was playing directly into her hands. Her tiny, manipulative hands.

 

* * *

 

The first thing he could remember was the smell of warm butter and the slight burn of bright, bright lights on his eyes. He remembered the sounds of happiness and the feeling of being loved.

A soft smile – he couldn’t remember whose – that spoke soft words and sang songs that ran like rivers of silk. He remembered honey brown and green hair ribbons and a laugh that put all others to shame.

He remembered strong hands holding him, teaching him, protecting him. Rough cloth and chalk and eating too fast. Smooth skin and rough hands and pride swelling on a smile.

Mostly, he remembered the feeling in his stomach when he _dropped_. When the ground turned to air and nothing – not even gravity – had a hold on him. He remembered sweet honey and cheery lime and a thousand colors exploding into one. Air in his lungs, skin stretching on his cheeks and breeze whizzing in his ears so fast he’d hear its song.

Somehow, he knew that there had been a time when he’d felt – _warm._

 

* * *

 

“Batgirl.”

“Batgirl?”

“Yep.”

“…Is this a joke?”

“Hey! Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t be serious.”

Bruce forced his eyebrows back down, schooling his features into stoic. Even with the cowl, he felt like this girl could see right through him.

“I never meant to imply that, Batgirl. I apologize if I have offended you.”

Batgirl’s eyes widened, “Oh. Well, I was just teasing you, but. Apology accepted. Now, let me go.”

“Go where?” Bruce asked, turning the teasing back onto her.

She just got annoyed, though. Her hair swayed with her as he paced up and down, waving her hands around. “Gotham needs people like us. The police aren’t enough. Hell, most of them are crooked. Excuse my language. Maybe, in another situation, it would be inappropriate to have vigilantes patrolling the streets, but here, I think it is needed. And, I’m doing it. All on my own. If you don’t want to be associated with me, I suggest you change your name because I sure won’t.”

Bruce sighed. For all the training he’d done, no one had prepared him for an encounter with a hyper, teenaged girl. Stubborn too. “You can’t fight dressed in that. One lucky knife, one bullet, one fall. That’s all it would take to end your life, girl.”

Batgirl smirked, hands on her hips. “Then I suggest you share your supplies.”

And, oh no. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

“You know, for the quote-unquote _World’s Greatest Detective_ , you sure are easy to figure out,” her smile softened into something almost fond. “I knew you wouldn’t let a kid out there without proper protection.”

Bruce felt something uncomfortable stirring in his chest. Maybe it was the girl’s seemingly unshakable trust in him, maybe it was her youthful naivety, maybe, and he wouldn’t admit this to anyone, he was open to some companionship on lonely Gotham nights. Whatever it was, he welcomed it and nodded. “Well, Batgirl, I guess I have no choice then. I’ll get you suited up, _but_ you have to be trained properly first. No more patrols until you’ve got my permission.”

“Yes!” Batgirl whooped, jumping into the air.

 

* * *

 

The course was supposed to be part of his punishment. The obstacles were lined with barbed wire and acid and the sharp, jotting stones on the walls were there only to tease his numb fingers. Even the lighting was made to be harsher than necessary on his eyes. There was a tally of his mistakes bring jotted down, each one earning him some sort of later penance.

But, the exertion made his muscles warm and his blood flowed effortlessly, pushing and pumping to get him over their traps. The movement of muscle under skin was something he knew had been an escape even _before_. He was better now than he’d been before, knew how to move, when to crouch, what Talon was looking for. There was sweat dripping from his hair and his own blood leaking where he’d fallen hard enough to break skin. He’d twisted his ankle early on, skill shaky from the cold.

And Talon was watching – waiting. Eyes eager to detect each wrong move, scraped knee, or broken bone. Poised, ready, _hungry_ for what came next.

 

* * *

 

“Penny for your thoughts, Master Jason?”

Jason startled, hair falling over his eyes as he faced the butler’s fond, knowing smile. “It’s nothing.”

Alfred didn’t push. “If you say so, but the lines on your forehead suggest that it’s definitely something.”

“It’s just. I’ve been thinking,” Jason started, a smile ghosting his lips at the memory of the last time Bruce had been in his same situation. Alfred had teased that nothing ever good came from Bruce’s thinking sessions. This time, however, the butler let his charge speak, judgment-free and abstaining from any quips. “Do you think Bruce is happy with me?”

Alfred’s eyebrows almost me his hairline, but he brought them down before Jason could see. “I don’t think I quite follow.”

“Well, I’m not the most sociable person so I understand why Bruce never takes me on his business trips. I know he’s doing it because he thinks I won't want to go, but sometimes,” Jason paused, eyes trained on the counter. “I just. I guess I miss him. I want to be a part of that part of his life too.”

Alfred didn’t respond. How could he when poor Jason was sulking over Bruce’s absence while he full well knew the man was right downstairs. There was some big case that he insisted demanded extra hours push through.

“I guess it’s silly, huh,” Jason tried to laugh it out, cheeks taking on a pink hue.

“Quite the contrary, young sir.”

“Really?” Jason asked, voice equal parts surprised and hopeful. “You think he’d let me go with him next time if I asked?”

Alfred knew the answer would be no – would always be no once he had a say – but nodded softly and said, “There’s no harm in asking. He might surprise you.”

 

* * *

It was no surprise when Talon approached him. It had been years of training now, of that he was sure. His head ached when he tried to remember exactly how long so he’d stopped trying.

“Hands up,” Talon said, eyes yellow and stern.

He shuddered, stomach rolling as he exposed his very vulnerable sides. Talon still had his claws on – always had his claws on – and they nudged his skin as Talon skimmed across his waist. After a few meticulous touches, each movement making his skin crawl, he realized that Talon was talking his measurements. He knew better than to ask with words, so he kept silent with his eyes following Talon’s hands.

When Talon was satisfied, he said, “Your time is coming soon, boy.”

He peered out from behind his fringe, heart hammering away in his chest.

Talon cracked a tiny grin. “I hope you’re ready – they’re expecting a show.”

 

* * *

 

“Aww, come on,” Batgirl whined, voice tinny and wobbly in the most annoying way.

“Purple is not stealthy. I won't allow it,” Batman gritted out. Her incessant talking was starting to make his ears hurt… which was saying a lot when he remembered he’d trained himself to have nerves of steel.

“Well, yellow isn’t stealthy either and you slapped it right across your chest,” she argued, fingers still coloring a disgusting shade of purple onto her costume design sketch.

Bruce had gone with a more minimalistic concept; similar to his own suit, she’d wear black on black on black. If she insisted, he’d supposed he could allow her to work something frilly into the design. She had yet to disclose her real name. Bruce already knew of course, but he would allow her to work up the trust to tell him herself. If there was any way this was going to work, they needed to develop some communication skills.

“Sir,” Alfred’s voice cut through the cold, still air of the cave. “I have prepared some lunch.”

Batgirl cheered, suddenly succumbing to starvation. She flopped towards Alfred, moaning about how he’d saved her life. “I thought my stomach was going to eat itself.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “I offered you raisins twenty minutes ago,” he said, very unimpressed. Batgirl was going to make Alfred think he was incompetent.

“Yuck,” Batgirl stuck her tongue out, chubby face scrunching up, “those look like rat poop.” She seemed to consider her words for a second, eyes wandering toward the ceiling. “Or bat poop!”

Bruce almost told her off for suggesting such a thing, but Alfred had a soft smile on his face and he looked, strangely enough, amused. Bruce had grown so used to seeing his face pale and haggard, stressing over him every night. There was a spark in the old man’s eyes that Bruce hadn’t seen since before he’d first put on the suit.

Alfred produced a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, laughing when Batgirl squealed in excitement. She swiped one, biting into it and twirling around. “This is super good!”

Bruce was starting to consider the possibility that cramping the girl in the cave was causing her to be hyperactive when Alfred laid a plate on the table near him.

He chuckled when Bruce eyed it wearily, “Don’t worry, sir. I wouldn’t dear try to feed you peanut butter and jelly.”

Alfred’s eyes were dancing, the memory of Bruce, face still round and unscarred, demanding that he was much too old for silly children’s food. Alfred had introduced him to cucumber sandwiches then and Bruce was yet to move on from them.

“One more thing,” Alfred said before he left, Batgirl still spinning circles and leaving crumbs everywhere. “I am proud that you are handling this new development maturely. But I implore you not to neglect your other responsibilities.”

“Oh,” Bruce swallowed. Jason. “Is he home?”

Alfred shook his head. “He’s working on his project at a friend’s house. Don’t cause him to miss you.”

As Alfred left, he heard Batgirl question Bruce about who they’d been talking about. He smirked. The seed had been planted, all that was left was for Bruce to water it.

 

* * *

 

The suit looked smaller than he imagined it would be. He wondered if it would actually fit him. Surely, he wasn’t that tiny.

“Your final test is upon you,” Talon said, voice soft and wispy.

Shivering, he stripped and allowed Talon to dress him. The suit did fit which made his stomach crawl. Talon was being very tender. There were no movements that slit his skin or left bruises.

“What will I have to do?” he asked, voice shaking. He didn’t even remember to make it seem husky to hide that he’d been practicing his speech in his free time.

Talon’s claws grazed his cheek, the sharp digits sinking into the soft flesh. “Your first kill will be tonight.”

He’d been preparing for those words for as long as he could remember, but they still made his body revolt. His skin crawled, and his blood churned. His stomach was flip-flopping and he could barely get his lungs to cooperate. “Who?”

Talon’s claws pressed harder until he felt a sharp pinch and the warm slide of blood on his face.

Talon’s eyes were still yellow, and his skin was still pale, but when he smiled, there was a cold edge to them. The demons living in his soul were set free upon his face and as he spoke, they danced. “Me.”

 

* * *

 

It had been three days since Jason had seen Bruce and it was clear that during that time, the man had changed. He wondered what might have caused it and blushed when the idea that a woman’s company may have been responsible occurred to him.

“Do I have something on my face?” Bruce interrupted his thoughts, his question more teasing than serious.

“No,” Jason blushed harder, suddenly overcome with sentimentality. “Just thinking.”

Bruce hummed, returning his gaze to the newspaper. The pot of coffee they were sharing was still steaming and filling the kitchen with it’s soft, comforting smell.

“Hey, Bruce?” Jason mused, eyes falling anywhere but his adoptive father.

“Yes, chum?” Bruce’s didn’t look up. Jason wondered if the man was trying to make this easier for him, his stomach going gooey and warm at the thought.

“I just want to say…” Jason took a deep breath fore breathing, “thank you.”

This time, Bruce’s blue eyes met him. They were wide and startled.

Jason chuckled. “Just, you’ve done a lot for me and I really appreciate it. Thank you.”

Both of them were blushing like mad and if Alfred were there, he’d whack them over the head for their emotional stubbornness while simultaneously praising them for their efforts.

“It’s my pleasure, chum,” Bruce smiled, soft and easy.

They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds, all the words they couldn’t say passing intangibly between them. Most of all though, they gave themselves some time to acknowledge that they loved each other. Then, Jason scampered to his room and Bruce returned to the Business section, both of their hearts singing in their chests.

 

* * *

 

“What’s this?” Batgirl asked, dropping her pointy chin onto Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce shut the file before she could see inside, pushing it under the tall pile on the table. “Never mind that. Have you completed the exercises I gave you?”

Batgirl grinned, all excited again. “I think I figured them all out this time.”

Bruce had given her some of his past cases to work thorough. She was excelling in every aspect of her training so far; she was fearless in a childish way that made it easy for her to throw herself from heights and practice for hours with a dummy punching bag. Now he was trying to hone her detective skills as well. As it turned out, she had solved each of the cases correctly. At this rate, she’d be joining him on patrol earlier than he’d imagined.

“Batman?” she sat cross legged on the ground.

“Hmm?”

Batgirl blushed. The cotton mask she was wearing for the sole purpose of hiding her identity did a poor job at hiding her expressions. “Um… never mind.”

Bruce didn’t push her, picking through one of the files. She fell silent for a while, caught up in her thoughts. By the time she finally spoke again nearly an hour had passed and Bruce had gone through three more files. The police department was growing lazier and lazier and Bruce feared that his help would only deteriorate their work ethic.

“I guess I should head home now,” Batgirl said, fingers knotting together in front her stomach.

“It is getting late,” Bruce agreed.

She stalled before him, face twisted. A flurry of emotions raced across her face, but a deep anxiety touched each one. Bruce stomach sank when he realized what she was trying to do.

“I trust you,” she confessed, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes flitted about the Cave before she reigned her gaze on his cowled face. “Barbara. My name, that is. My name is Barbara, Barbara Gordon.”

Bruce’s heart went soft. He wondered if this was how Clark felt when his young fans fawned over him. Somehow, he doubted that he ever felt this rewarded. Barbara was looking at him with such revere. She was trusting him to protect her – to defend her. She was surrendering her only security measure in a leap of faith.

Bruce nodded, bringing his fingers to touch the edge of his chin. He watched as her eyes widened as the latch clicked unlocked. He slowly eased it off, blinking at her with a gentle smile. “My name is Bruce Wayne.”

She removed her own mask, eyes shining with unshed tears. “You trust me this much?”

“You are very competent. You’re hardworking, intelligent, brave and determined. Most of all, Barbara, you’re my friend. I haven’t had many of those. So, thank you.” Bruce was very aware of how strange this was. Some might be put off by how creepy it was – a grown man spinning words of devotion about a young girl. However, what he said was true. Barbara had lit up the cave in a way nothing ever had before. Bruce had felt more hopeful and even Alfred was smiling more. She’d left her mark on them and Bruce had learned long ago that expressing gratitude wasn’t something that should be shied away from.

“Thank you,” she breathed. She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes until the tears had dried and her cheeks had lost their resemblance to a tomato. “I trust you too. And, you’re a good friend. Friendship is a two-way street, Mr. Wayne. You’ve been doing a good job at it.”

Bruce chuckled. She was too sweet for her own good.

He laughed freely when her face fell into shock. “Wait! Is this Cave underneath the Wayne Manor?”

 

* * *

 

The rules were simple. He’d be set free into Gotham. His first time on the streets in… however many years they’d had him here. All he had to do was catch Talon. Catch Talon and kill him. Him and anyone who got in his way.

But he didn’t want to kill Talon. He told Talon as much. There was no one around for now, just him and Talon in the tiny cell he lived in.

“[Don’t cry](http://mentalfloss.com/article/67896/12-creepy-lullabies-around-world-will-keep-you-night),” Talon cooed, claws raking against his cheeks.

He couldn’t stop the tears from dribbling, though. Wrapped his tiny fingers around Talon’s wrists. “I don’t want you to die.”

“Such a lovely face, boy,” Talon’s voice was a low rumble. The claws moved into the boy’s hair, parting the thick, black tresses deliberately. “If you cry, you won't look as beautiful.”

The boy shuddered.

“And you know they want a show,” Talon purred. “Don’t cry, boy. The moon is full, like the head of a scary giant, one who’s looking for a crying child.”

The boy was trembling under Talon’s hold. “I don’t want you to die.”

“Hush, beautiful child. If you keep on crying, you'll make me nervous.”

The boy shook and hiccupped, rivers of tears streaming from his eyes. “I can’t kill you.”

Talon’s teeth peeked out behind his lips as his face stretched into a hungry grin. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

“Bruce? Are you even listening to me?” Jason huffed, petulance seeping into his voice.

Alfred looked over from his tea, eyebrows frowning at the pair. Bruce was obviously preoccupied, face hidden behind his laptop screen. When Jason had first come in, he’d given the boy his attention for a full two minutes before his emails had taken priority.

“Yes, Jason. Science fair. Next Saturday. Two o’clock. I’ll be there,” Bruce monotoned, never tearing his gaze from his work.

Jason’s cheeks tinted pink, “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. It’s not that big of a deal and a lot of kids’ parents just drop them off and pick them back up after.”

Alfred doubted the validity of the boy’s statements but did not question them. Instead, he felt his composure falling as he considered the subtler semantics of Jason’s statements. Viewed the right way, it almost seemed like Jason had lumped Bruce in with all the other parents. For a boy who had threatened to burn Wayne manor down when Bruce suggested they append his last name to Todd-Wayne, the progress was equal parts astounding and heartwarming.

“Jason,” Bruce said, finally looking up. He frowned when Jason perked up, suddenly looking excited. “I have work to do. I told you I’d come to the fair the first time you asked me about it. I don’t have time for pointless questions right now.”

Alfred didn’t see the purpose of Bruce being so short with Jason.

“Master Jason?” Alfred called, hoping to diffuse the situation. “Could you do me a favor and check that the back door is locked? I’m afraid I’ve forgotten if I’ve done so.”

Jason nodded and scurried off; there were five back doors, so he would be gone for a while. Once Jason was safely out of hearing range, Alfred turned an unimpressed look upon his older charge.

“What?” Bruce turned defensive. “He was being annoying.”

“Be that as it may, he is merely an excited teenager. Such behavior is to be expected. You on the other hand are _annoying_ by nature and you don’t see me complaining.”

 

* * *

 

The air was colder than he’d expected it to be. It invaded his suit, seeping past the armoured layers and the thick Kevlar vest. He hadn’t been outside in so long. Distantly, he remembered crying silent tears before he slept, yearning to be let outside. Now, all he could feel was fear. The lights were bright, the air was thick and difficult to breathe compared oxygen rich air that had been pumped into their underground cave and worst of all, he was all alone. He was sure there was at least one Owl watching him, but there was no guidance, no orders, no Talon.

He flinched when a tiny black bird cawed loud and ugly above him. A single crow was staring curiously at him, flittering about until it landed on the floor, directly before his feet.

“Friend or foe?” he asked, words spoken in his head. He supposed verbal communication wasn’t necessary between birds such as himself and the little creature before him.

The crow cooed sweetly, and he almost felt a smile creeping onto his face. Suddenly, the crow’s wings began beating and the birds rushed at his eyes, screeching and pecking at his skin. He didn’t scream, or even cry. A deliberate, quick movement had the bird’s neck snapped.

As he gently lay the animal’s limp, lifeless body on the ground he murmured, words passing his vocal cords this time, “Foe I guess.”

 

* * *

 

Barbara giggled. She pressed her hand against her mouth, but the happy noises still escaped. Batman had finally gotten her suit made and her body was just too small to conceal her excitement over it. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to go out as Batgirl without his permission, but she was just making her way home. It was pure coincidence that she was wearing the Batgirl suit at the same time.

It was a beautiful, deep purple colour which looked amazing when contrasting with the popping yellow of the inside of her cape. The cloth was thick, hard and shiny and absorbed shock better than any material she had encountered before. The best part though, was the mask. It had been made to fit her face perfectly and for some reason, despite it hiding all of her recognizable features, she felt pretty with it on.

Just as she was passing the corner of West and Fits, she heard a scuffle in the alley. Perfect opportunity to present her new suit she thought as she slunk into the dark passage. As Batman had taught her, she used the dark shadowy areas to her advantage, curling her cape over her shoulders and masking herself in the darkness.

Strangely, she didn’t see anyone in the alley. Not even a roustabout teenager looking for trouble, as her Uncle Jim would say. Looking more carefully, she noticed that there weren’t any stray animals that could have caused the noises. Batgirl felt an eerie sense of waiting fall upon her. She was positive that she wasn’t alone in the alley; she just couldn’t figure out who – or what – her company was.

“Hello?” she finally said, putting as much force into her words.

“Are you a little bird?” a voice responded, soft and whispered. The speaker’s voice was husky and reminded Barbara of Mr. Jones who’d sold newspapers on the Gotham streets long enough that the car exhaust had given him cancer.

“Who are you?” she asked, stepping cautiously out of the shadows. Here, she could be seen more easily but she’d also be able to escape faster.

“Can you sing?” the voice spoke again, rough and gritty but undeniably curious.

“Show yourself,” Batgirl demanded.

A tiny escape for a boy appeared, seemingly born from the shadows. He hadn’t been more than two feet from where she’d been hidden before. How didn’t she notice him standing so close? 

“Who are you?” Barbara asked, heartbeat picking up. Something about this boy was putting her on edge.

“Are you a bird?” he asked again. He was slim and short, with small shoulders and wrists. He was wearing a full costume, with goggles as a mask and sharp knives snug across his chest. The rest of his suit was either a pea green color or black.

“Um, no. I’m a girl.”

The boy moved, actions slicing the air with deadly precision. He had her pinned in seconds, skinny wrist bearing down on her throat.   

“What are you doing? Get off!” Barbara screamed, thrashing as he pressed his weight onto her trachea.

“Not a bird? Friend or foe?”

“Please! Get off me!” Barbara panicked. She was struggling to breath and if he cut off her air supply much longer, she was sure she’d pass out.

“Friend or foe?”

“Please! I’m not a bird. I’m Batgirl. I just wanted to help. Please, I’m sorry!” she begged, kicking out.

“A bat… girl?” the boy parroted, tilting his head to the side, eerily like a bird. His hands shifted, and Barbara froze when she realized he had thin, sharp blades attached to his gloved fingers.

“Yes! I help Batman. We protect the city,” Barbara said, words spilling over each other as he released pressure.

“Not a bat. Not a girl. A girl and a bat?” the boy puzzled, leaning over her still, but limbs clumsy and no longer strategic.

Barbara took advantage quickly, flipping him off her. She knocked his head onto the ground, whispering a rushed apology before she scampered back to the Cave. She was seriously regretting breaking the rules now.

 

* * *

 

“Alfie?” Jason fidgeted at the door, hands pulled behind his back, no doubt hiding fumbling fingers.

Alfred looked up from his novel and set his tea on the table. “Master Jason? Is there something wrong?”

“No,” Jason’s cheeks were red, and he kept moving onto the balls of his feet. “Just, um. I need a drop to the Science Fair.”

Alfred swallowed his sigh. He’d been expecting this, yet foolishly hoping that Bruce would rise to the occasion. “Right. I’ll be right there. Why don’t you go put on your coat?”

Jason nodded, silent in words and movements. Alfred watched his retreating form and allowed his disapproval to run rampant through his mind for a few seconds. Then, he wiped them away and devoted his attention to Jason. Bruce couldn’t not be helped unless he was willing to receive assistance.

Alfred met Jason in the garage and slipped into the driver’s seat. Jason’s eyes were red rimmed, and his cheeks weren’t just red, they were blotchy and drawn.

“Would you like me to stay?” Alfred offered, heart hanging heavy and painful in his chest as he pulled up outside Gotham Academy. The auditorium entrance had been decorated and there was a large crown of mingling parents. The pride spilled from their expressions as bashful children hung at their elbows.

“No thank you. I’ll find a drop home,” Jason said as he stepped out of the car.

Alfred waved him goodbye, holding a fake smile as Jason waved back. As the young boy walked into the auditorium with his lonesome, his shoulders were slumped, and he was still trying to erase the evidence of his tears.

 

* * *

 

Talon caught him hiding in the rafters in the public bathroom at the park. The stench bothered his nose, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the flock of geese prowling the edge of the lake. He kept running over Batgirl’s words.

A bat and a girl? A Batgirl? He didn’t understand. How could someone be both?

He didn’t fight when Talon sank a knife into his shoulder in retribution for his failure. He accepted the pain and let the blood pool out of him.

And later, when they laid his bruised and throbbing body into the freezer (not the coffin like Talon; just a cold, cold room with no color, company or stimulation), all he could think was that maybe he could be like that too. Being a boy and a bird didn’t sound all that bad.

 

* * *

 

“I distinctly remember telling you not to go out as Batgirl without me,” Bruce scolded, pressing his fingers gently against the blooming Bruce on Barbara’s neck.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think some freak was going to attack me!” Barbara defended herself.

“A freak?”

“Yeah. A little boy. He was wearing a costume too, but with goggles and a lot of knives. He kept asking me if I was a bird. It was creepy.”

Bruce frowned. It sounded like… “Barbara, are you sure that’s what you saw?”

“Positive. Why? Who was that?”

Bruce sighed, “I think you met The Court of Owls.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: allusions to canon-typical violence (nothing too graphic)

He didn’t know how long they’d kept him in the ice room. Time passed differently in there – minutes passed like days, days passed like weeks, weeks passed like years and the whole time he just wanted to feel _warm_ again. The room was always just cold enough that he could see the blue underneath his nails. Cold enough to drain his body of energy to the point where he couldn’t even be bothered to tremble. Cold, cold, cold. Too cold to move. Too cold to sleep.

Usually, he’d try to calm himself into a meditative state. This time, his thoughts were plagued by a small, curvy body. A cape backed with purple. Red, curling hair. Strong muscles executing precise, calculated movements. A girl and a bat. Crossed in one.

Somehow, it felt _right_.

 

* * *

 

There was a hot, suffocating kind of panic working its way through Bruce. As a man who prided himself in anticipating every possible outcome and preparing accordingly, the panic was not only unnerving. It was annoying.

“This can’t be right,” he muttered, voice reaching only the ears of the bats huddling on the Cave’s ceiling. They too twittered anxiously.

He checked the dates. Rechecked.

Analyzed the footage. Reanalyzed.

Studied the voice recordings. Restudied.

“Shit.”

The possibility was small. Yet. It was wearing away at his gut. Screaming _pay attention_. Screaming _this is your fault_. Screaming _run, run far away_.

Bruce pulled up the live stream to Jason’s bedroom. It was invasive and would definitely be frowned upon if their family therapist were to find out but seeing his son sleeping peacefully brought a sliver of relief. He’d done good for Jason. Jason was safe and sound and happy.

The probability was small, Bruce reminded himself. He drummed his fingers against his thigh. He was being pessimistic, he tried to convince himself. There was no way, he tried to reason. Most of him listened. At least, the part that Alfred had managed to wrangle into a rational being.

The other part of him kept hammering on one thing and one thing only: there was one who he’d failed to keep safe and sound and happy. One who’d needed him and had gone without. One who’d been sacrificed to the cause.

One who’d bring his life down in shambles.

Bruce stared at the gentle rise and fall of Jason’s chest on the monitor and tried to block out those thoughts.  

 

* * *

 

 

He worked up the courage after his freezing, trembling body was pulled from the ice room. Talon was tending to his frostbitten fingers and ears. The cold metal felt scorching hot against his frozen skin. He leaned into the touch. Talon didn’t comment, never commented when he soaked up any attention he was given.

“What was I before?” he asked, voice hoarse from lack of use, the noise foreign and sacrilegious in the usually quiet room.

Talon ignored him mostly, except for the deliberate movement of the thinnest point of his claws to rest just above the vein in his neck. He stilled, breath freezing in his chest. He trusted Talon not to kill him – the Court had forbidden it and Talon had been beaten after he’d first tried to murder him. Yet, experience had taught him that the pain Talon could inflict would be much worse than death.

Minutes passed with just the movement of heavy metal treating the blistered skin on his ears. Then, Talon spoke, “Nothing. Before we found you, you were nothing. You just waited. Wishing on every star that we’d come and rescue you and take you back.”

He swallowed, the slight movement pricking his skin against Talon’s claws. Distantly, he heard himself whisper, “Thank you, Talon,” but it was barely registered over the blood rushing in his ears.

Because. This was the first time Talon had ever directly answered a question of his. And he’d been wishing for a much different answer.

 

* * *

 

The bruising on Barbara’s neck faded eventually, but not quickly enough for Bruce’s liking. The stark blue-purple marks against her pale skin were frightening. He spent days adding extra padding onto her suit until she finally demanded to be let into the field again.

“Bruce, this is ridiculous,” she pouted, eyes bright and defiant.

Bruce shrugged, “I don’t see the problem. I just made it safer.”

Barbara huffed, glaring down at her ‘new and improved Batgirl suit’. She raised her hands as high as possible, stopping only a few inches above her hips. Her body was so insulated with armor and Kevlar that she resembled a swollen penguin, standing in the middle of the cave and flapping her arms at his sides.

“I can barely move! You can’t expect me to fight in this!”

“No, you’re forbidden from fighting,” Bruce said, refusing to compromise. There was no way he was letting this little girl get hurt again. Not on his watch.

“What?!” Barbara screeched, cheeks red and eyebrows tilted in anger. “You can’t be serious!”

“I don’t joke,” Bruce said, voice deadpanned.

Barbara sighed, eyes running over him before she got that look in her eyes. Bruce recognized that look. It was the look of a woman who’d somehow figured out _exactly_ what was going on and was probably amused by the absurdity of the situation.

“What?” Bruce asked, barely concealing his trepidation. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Barbara smirked, and Bruce felt his muscles tense.

“You scared,” Barbara said grinning. “I get it now. You’re scared that I’ll get hurt.”

“Barbara –”

“Oh, wow. I didn’t think the big, bad Batman _could_ get scared. At least, not of a little girl. I’ll be fine, Bruce,” Barbara insisted, still looking at him like she had him all figured out.

“No, Barbara. I’m not scared,” Bruce sighed. He paused, swallowed, and then met her eyes, “I’m _terrified_.”

Barbara’s expression fell in shock.

Bruce looked away from her, eyes trained on the bats flitting about in the ceiling of the cave. “I’m terrified that you’re going to leave in that suit and never come back. You haven’t even been on patrol yet and you still got hurt as Batgirl.”

“Bruce…”

Bruce shook his head, “Barbara, please. Just, wait a bit. You can help me with the cases still, but I can’t let you get hurt.”

Barbara sighed, analyzing the man before her for a few moments. Bruce looked awful – shoulders slumped and tense, and hands curled in fists. He looked horribly conflicted.

Barbara approached him, resting one of her small, dainty hands on his arm. “I thought we went over this already. I’m going out there, whether you want me to or not. You trained me, and you got me safer clothes. I’m safer now.”

Bruce eyed her neck, visions of the Court and their soldiers filling his head. “Not safe enough.”

Barbara smiled a tiny smile, somehow managing to look too young and yet too old at the same time. She relented, “Okay. I’ll agree to only patrolling when you’re with me. If you say no, I’m going anyway.”

Bruce looked down at her determined face and fiery eyes. With a resigned heave of breath, he agreed, “Fine. But, you’re only Batgirl when I’m there.”

“Agreed.”

 

* * *

 

It only took one patrol for the Court of Owls to latch onto the idea of eradicating Batgirl. The child was a weakness that could easily be exploited – clearly untrained and inexperienced. If it wasn’t for the tight leash Batman kept on the girl, the Court would have assumed that it was a trap. It seemed too good to be true. But Batman guarded the child fiercely and refused to let her get close to any action.

It would be easy to swoop in and slice her tiny throat.

Easy to lure her into the bay and let her bloated, bruised body float back into the harbor.

Easy to maul her in front of Batman.

But the Court didn’t stride for easy. And, they had already decided how the assassination of Batgirl would be advantageous to them.

 

* * *

 

“Master Jason,” Alfred frowned, “You’re home late.”

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, stomach swirling with guilt. “Oh, Alfie. You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

“You should know I won’t rest until I know all of my charges and safe and asleep at the end of the day,” Alfred chided, moving to help Jason out of his coat.

Usually, Jason would refuse his help and put his coat and boots away himself, but he couldn’t deny the older man. Not after he’d made him wait for hours for his return.

“May I ask what kept you so long?” Alfred asked, ushering Jason into the kitchen. “It’s nearly midnight.”

To that question, Jason didn’t really have an answer. He’d just been walking around the city, killing time. He hadn’t wanted to go home. There was nothing there waiting for him. Except, and he’d neglected to factor him in, Alfred.

“I just got distracted at the park,” Jason said, truthfully. He’d spent more than three hours sitting under the great oak tree, watching the sun set and the stars peek out.

Alfred set the kettle to heat and fixed a knowing look on the younger of his charges. “Next time, would you please call home if you plan to be late. I worry.”

Jason smiled, reaching out to hold Alfred’s soft hand. It was light and beginning to wrinkle. “I’m sorry. I’ll call next time, I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Talon hovered over his shoulder, humming in approval whenever he deemed his work worthy of praise.

He was working on one of the harder puzzles. They’d assigned him the project weeks ago and promised a reward if he were to succeed. All he had to do was fit the sharp, splintering wood back into a sphere. It had seemed like a simple task until he’d realized that the wood had been soaked with poison. Every time he pricked himself on the jagged wood, the poison would seep into his bloodstream, draining his energy and making his bones feel heavy.

Despite the anxiety that crawled through his veins each time Talon tutted disapprovingly, he enjoyed moments like this. When it was just Talon and him, holed away without any demands to fight or perform, it was easy to pretend that he was happy. Easy to pretend that he couldn’t feel his soul turning black. Easy to pretend that he couldn’t feel his heart freezing in his chest.

Suddenly, a dark, sinister voice pierced the air, “Talon.”

His stomach turned. He _knew_ that voice. He felt Talon tense behind him, claws dragging again his back as Talon’s fists clenched. It was with relief that he watched Talon turn into himself defensively. This man was more of a monster than a human. Having him in the same room made his fingers shake. The only comfort was that he wasn’t alone in his fear. If Talon could be afraid, so could he.

“Grand Master,” Talon bowed his head respectfully.

Grand Master’s lips twitched into a snare. In a flash, Grand Master reached out and slit Talon’s throat.

He flinched away, scampering across the room as Talon crumpled to the floor, bleeding out. Talon’s wet gasps for breath pierced his chest, squeezing painfully at his insides. He crouched in the corner, mewling pathetically as Grand Master turned his attention on him.

“Gray Son,” Grand Master’s voice lowered, words flowing mystically. It seemed that his words alone made the air colder.

He couldn’t – _wouldn’t_ – move.

A ripple of impatience broke the hard, plastic façade of Grand Master’s face. He repeated, words clipped, “Gray Son, come.”

He shrunk further into the corner, the fine bones of his back pressing hard against the wall. Talon’s wound was still bleeding. He’d seen Talon perform before. An injury such as this would have Talon out of commission for a few minutes. He was on his own. He shuddered.

Grand Master snapped, “Don’t make me repeat myself again. Come here, Gray Son.”

His eyes widened. Gray Son. Was that him?

Movements slow and deliberate, he pointed to his own chest in question.

Grand Master’s face twitched again, his features transforming into a ghastly grin. He held his left hand out, beckoning him to take it. “Gray Son, you have a new mission.”

He hesitated, gaze flickering back to Talon. Talon’s blood had pooled. From here, he could see splinters of his shattered puzzle laying on the ground, soaked in blood. Talon had had the Court’s potion in his veins. He did not. He could not heal from a would like that. Not yet.

Grand Master hissed, bending slightly to grab his shoulder roughly, “There will be no chance for failure this time, Gray Son. Least you want to end up like Talon.”

 

* * *

 

Jason caught Bruce in the gym, soaked in sweat and on his second to last rep of pull-ups.

“B?” Jason rubbed the back of his neck, eyes anywhere but Bruce’s sweaty, bare chest. “Can I talk to you?”

Bruce grunted out some numbers, completed his set and then dropped to the floor. He grabbed a towel, scrubbing down his face before turning to his son.

“Sure, Jason. What’s up?”

Jason took a few moments to get his thoughts in order. Then, “Is something wrong?”

“What?”

Jason began pacing, fists clenched at his sides. “Is it the company? Is it something with the stocks? A business deal?”

Bruce grabbed Jason’s shoulder, holding him steady. “Calm down. What’s this about? Why do you think there’s something wrong?”

Jason’s eyes searched Bruce’s face frantically, growing more and more desperate. He didn’t seem to find what he was looking for, though, because his shoulders suddenly slumped, and he frowned.

“So? Everything’s fine?” he asked, body taut and angry.

Bruce couldn’t fathom what had brought on such behavior. “Of course. Are you okay, Jason?”

Jason tensed. No. He was not okay. He hadn’t seen Bruce in _days_. Asides from a hair ruffle to send him off to school and a quick check that he was in bed at night, Jason hadn’t seen Bruce in nearly two weeks. He’d thought – _hoped_ – that they’d been some sort of life-or-death situation plaguing the man’s mind. Turns out he was wrong. Great.

“Jason?” Bruce worried, moving his hand to Jason’s forehead, checking for a temperature.

Jason flinched away, pulling out of Bruce’s grip and crossing the room in record time. He shot Bruce a venomous glare and spat, “I’m fine, Bruce. Fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

 

* * *

 

Everything moved in a blur.

Grand Master took over his training.

His muscles ached. His skin broke. He _bled_. It wasn’t enough. Never enough.

Grand Master watched, neck stiff, eyes following. He shuddered with every twitch Grand Master made.

Talon didn’t visit.

He worried.

In between naps and training and punishment, he worried.

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing?” Bruce snapped, voice low and angry.

Barbara flinched.

“You don’t have permission to touch my files!” Bruce seethed, gathering the pages close to his chest, hunching protectively over them.

It was too late. Barbara had already seen.

“The Court of Owls?” She recited. “That’s who I saw the other day? Who hurt me?”

Bruce took a calming breath. In for five seconds. Hold for seven. Out for nine. Repeat.

Once he didn’t feel like clawing his way out of his suit, he said, “Why did you read my files? You aren’t allowed to touch these things.”

Barbara ignored him, “I’ve heard of them before. I didn’t think they were real. I’ve heard the rhyme.”

_Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time,  
Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch,_  _behind granite and lime._  
_They watch you at your hearth,_   _they watch you in your bed._  
_Speak not a whispered word about them,_   _or they'll send the Talon for your head._

Bruce’s gave up on trying to get his breaths to cooperate. He shot Barbara such a scathing look that the girl shrunk under it.

In a voice akin to the one he could achieve with the help of his voice modulator, he growled, “You had no right to read my files. Go home, Batgirl.”

“But—”

“Go home!”

 

* * *

 

It was difficult keeping time without sunset and sunrise – just the monotonous schedule of training and resting. He didn’t know he long it had been since Grand Master had taken interest with him, only that it had been too long.

He hadn’t seen Talon in what felt like forever. It made dread creep into his bones and a heavy sort of melancholy cloaked his body.

Finally. _Finally_ , there was a day when Grand Master didn’t come to wake him in his cell. Instead of a cold, heavy hand rapping roughly against his head, he was woken by thin, metal clays raking through his hair.

Afraid it was a dream, he whispered, “Talon?” Then clenched in await of retribution.

When there was no strike or stab, he peeked, eyes landing on Talon. Looking smaller and paler than he’d last been. Worse for wear but not bleeding out.

He managed a smile, “Are you training me again?”

Face as expressionless as ever and voice always at rest, Talon didn’t respond. Talon’s claws prinked his skin in punishment for speaking but compared to the pain he’d ensured with Grand Master recently, it felt more like a tickle.

With Talon, the rules were clear, and the punishments always healed within a few days. This he could handle. This was safe.

 

* * *

 

Alfred could sense the shift within the household.

He wasn’t sure exactly what had gone down in the Cave, but Batgirl had begun to come by less and less and her visits were growing short and formal.

Jason was never home – always off with some friend, or working on some project, or hanging out at some part. Wherever he was, he was anywhere but the Manor.

And Bruce seemed oblivious to it all.

There was some case stealing all of his attention. He holed up in the Cave pouring through videos and files and any data he could get his hands on. All in search of what? Alfred didn’t know. What he did know was that the foundation of the Wayne Manor was crumbling and if Bruce didn’t get his act together soon, there’d be hell to pay.

 

* * *

 

It turned out that Talon’s return was just a tool to make him cooperate. Only hours of light training passed before Grand Master returned, steps clicking as he walked into the room. Each step made forward sucked some warmth out of the room until it was cold and freezing.

“Gray Son, you have a mission,” said Grand Master, voice strong like steel.

At his side, Talon was stiff.

He didn’t move either, holding still to hide his tremors. Talon was mean and angry and cruel. And fair. Punishments were established alongside rules and wounds were tended to and treated.

There were no words to describe the _evil_ that was Grand Master. At least, none that he had ever encountered.

His last mission had ended in _cold, cold, cold_. With Grand Master, it was inevitable that his next would end in blood.


End file.
